Trivial Matters
by Team Dragon Star
Summary: When word of freakish Saiyans and mystical Dragon Balls gets out to the public, Son Gohan is left to rue ever placing his trust in a certain pig-tailed crimefighter. Will the Z Fighters survive the ensuing onslaught and, more pertinently, can Videl still make things right?
1. Chapter 1

Gohan glared daggers at the girl in front of him. What could she possibly want? She had, after all, just ruined his life beyond comprehension.

"Gohan, please!" exclaimed Videl. "Just let me explain."

He didn't even afford her a glance. He couldn't bring himself to, not after all that she had done.

"Hear me out, Gohan… please. I didn't mean to…"

Her words fell on deaf ears as he left the panicked girl in his footsteps. He had trusted her with everything - his secrets, his identity, his whole world. He had poured his heart out to her and she had taken advantage of that.

Just when he had thought that the two of them were getting somewhere since the cat was finally out of the bag, she turned around and told the rest of the world. Now, scientists wanted to cut him open and examine a Saiyan esophagus, the unpopulated mountain ranges he lived in were awash with reporters and Capsule Corp. had been on lockdown for the past three days.

Gohan didn't even know how Kame House was doing because he didn't want to give _them_ a headstart in the mad dash to find every aspect of his life and flip it upside down. Helicopters circled around him wherever he went and he wouldn't be surprised if their phones were being tapped — all in all, he would do well to not subject Krillin, Eighteen and Master Roshi to the same treatment he had enured.

The school had gone so far as to enlist the the help of a private security company to hold off the vicious tabloid journalists that were desperate to get a scoop on Planet Earth's newest freak. He figured it was a measure designed to protect the rest of the students as much as him, but it was a shame that nothing could be done to shelter him from the student body.

Whispers that Gohan shouldn't have been able to hear were everywhere - risqué girls wondering if all aliens were 'as sexy' as him to juniors labelling him abomination and everything in between. Lines at the drink tap instantly parted for him and people wouldn't dare to even use a urinal on the same side of the bathroom as him. The worst, by far, was the graffiti all over his locker given that it was the closest he seemed to get to actual communication with his peers these days.

Some of his teachers treated him as though they were none-the-wiser of the events that had unfolded over the past week. They called his name when he raised his hand and answered the questions he asked. Others weren't so professional.

He supposed that he couldn't blame them, though. There was only one person responsible for his current predicament and her evidence was nigh-irrefutable.

Who could deny the portrait she had painted with the dots he had described to her in perfect detail? He should have known better than to naively assume she had been asking all those questions because she wanted to learn more about martial arts. The people who could shoot magical beams at older World Martial Arts Tournaments and the freaks who had single-handedly toppled the Red Ribbon Army and King Piccolo's regime were all hearsay.

The Cell Games were the most important piece of the puzzle. In high definition broadcast, fighters of all sorts banded together to defeat Cell - from warriors that could destroy an entire arena in the blink of an eye to a green alien that looked suspiciously like King Piccolo. Once she had connected those fighters to Saiyaman, no viable counter argument remained. It was clear to the world that aliens capable of terrible feats walked amongst them.

His secret was out, and it was all her fault.

…

A sea of curious reporters had surrounded the Capsule Corporation building for the past few days. The nuisances had occupied the usually lively street to the point that the area had been deemed off limits by white and orange striped barricades. Some reporters had even found their way into the front yard, despite law enforcement's best efforts to keep them at bay.

A handful of police officers had parked their patrol cars close to the action and were watching the crowd cautiously. The reporters had become violent during the extended gathering and they were to ensure it did not happen again. Removing the anxious reporters would be far too troublesome, therefore keeping watch was the only thing they could do.

The crowd waited hours upon hours for a chance to corner their prey, which, in this case, was anyone inside that dome-shaped building. Each and every one of them wanted the exclusive scoop that their competitors didn't have. The interview that entire world was waiting for was so close. It was the talk of the world, the story everyone wanted to know a bit more about.

Capsule Corp. and their connection to the aliens secretly residing on Earth.

Every reporter kept an eye focused on the grey door to Capsule Corp., willing it to open and allow the crowd to flood inside and demand the interview they had been impatiently awaiting. For many, this was to be the highlight of their career. At the very least it could gift them a long-awaited promotion.

The area was in no way quiet. The reporters spoke among themselves, simply passing the time while awaiting the main event. They spat insults at their competitors and pushed their way through the crowd to ensure they had the best angle.

Their endless chatter ceased the second they noticed the door to Capsule Corporation sliding open. Reporters pushed their way through the crowd as the camera-men sought a better angle. The crowd erupted into chaos as they watched the president herself, Bulma Briefs, step outside followed by two personal guards wearing white polo shirts with the Capsule Corporation logo printed on them.

Almost instantly she was ambushed by reporters, forcing her back a few paces. The police officers previously guarding the gates were overwhelmed by the number of eager reporters forcing their way in. The two guards began working on pushing the crowd backward.

"Get back! One at a time!" they yelled, yet not a single reporter heard nor cared what the security ordered. They continued their merciless assault on the president that they had waited so long to see.

The guards narrowed their eyes, glaring at the crowd as they ushered the reporters back. Some of the nearby police had joined them in the effort, but the crowd was tough.

"That's enough!" This time the voices were more commanding, yet still could not reach the persistent reporters. It was beginning to annoy Bulma. She glared as she stepped forward, making use of the small amount of space her security had made for her.

"Quit it already or else nobody gets an interview!" her deafening voice called out. That got their attention.

The reporters quieted, only whispers came from their lips. Bulma smiled at her small victory. The guards were able to push them back easily now, giving her enough room to feel comfortable.

They had warned her that this would happen, but she was far too stubborn to heed the words of her hired security. Capsule Corporation recently had many an opening for personal guards for Bulma as well as other possible targets. They had also lost a great deal of various employees from the stress of Capsule Corp. being a target for the media, security being a large portion. They just weren't accustomed to the work they would be doing. An attempted robbery or escort of a troublesome visitor was the extent of their action previously.

After the news of the Saiyans reached the public, people quickly made the connections between these aliens and her husband, Vegeta. They had hoped to corner him but they were to have no such luck. As soon as Vegeta had heard of this trivial matter he had left, claiming to have no time for these things.

This was Bulma's first time addressing the public after the news got out. She was nervous, to say the least. The reporters were enthusiastic, that was certain. This wasn't the first time she had been interviewed, but it was the under the worst circumstances yet.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When they opened once again, false bravado shone through. She was ready.

"That's more like it. Now, you wanted an interview?" she asked.

The reporters begged for her attention, raising their cameras to the sky and their microphone to their target. They pleaded with their eyes as she scanned the crowd.

"Alright, spit it out," she said to a middle-aged man a few feet away. He nodded to his cameraman.

"Mrs. Briefs, are you also a… Saiyan?" the reporter asked, glancing down at a notecard before speaking the name of the alien race. He shoved his microphone toward Bulma's face, a little too close for her liking. She pulled her head away a bit before stating her answer with a glare.

"No, I am not a Saiyan! I'm a human just like the rest of you." Bulma turned away, clearly offended. The reporter pulled his microphone away, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

She turned her attention to a woman holding a microphone on her left. "What about you? Do you have any other insane propositions?"

"Um, well, we were wondering e-exactly how long this information has been... concealed?" The reporter held up the microphone with a shaky hand.

Bulma scratched her head in thought as her eyes gazed up to the left. "Let's see… Raditz was the first Saiyan we knew about and that was… how many years ago?" she mumbled to herself.

She stood there in thought for a few moments, leaving the reporters restless. They whispered to each other, glancing nervously at Bulma.

"Er, Mrs. Briefs?" The reporter called. Bulma snapped out of thought and turned to her.

"Oh, sorry. I believe we've known about the Saiyans for about... 13 years? Yeah, around 13 years," Bulma said. Audible gasps came from the crowd. Reporters mumbled about how great the amount of time was.

"These aliens have been living among us for 13 years?" she gasped.

"Well, not exactly. We only found out about them 13 years ago. They've been here longer than that. At least, one of them has," Bulma admitted.

A second round of gasps came from the horde. The reporter's eyes widened as she quickly asked another question.

"Why were kept in the dark so long? Is there a reason we have been unaware of the aliens living among us?" Her fear seemed to have been replaced by curiosity and anxiousness. Other reported perked up at the question, nodding and whispering to each other.

Bulma sighed. She had hoped this question wouldn't come up, but she had planned for it either way. It was difficult to answer, seeing as every response had a different outcome. If they knew that the Saiyans had saved their world from destruction so many times, as well as being the direct cause of many threats, how would governments react? They were already on high alert, all they needed was proof that these aliens were threats to Earth's safety and they'd be able to take action.

"We thought it was better if the Saiyans lived peacefully. We didn't want people to panic like they are now," she explained. It was mostly the truth. She hoped they wouldn't press further, but knew that more would have to be revealed eventually.

Luckily, the woman seemed pleased with the answer. She mumbled a quick thanks and Bulma searched for the next reporter. She turned to a young man who shook his hand in the air and jumped anxiously.

"Yes?" Bulma asked. The man moved up a bit closer and beamed happily.

"Mrs. Briefs, we already know that these Saiyans have existed among us for a long time, but we're wondering if there might be other aliens that we haven't heard of. Since you've covered up Saiyans for this long, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume there are other species among us that we haven't noticed yet. Maybe even species that aren't among us. Do you happen to know of any other aliens?" the young man asked.

Bulma nodded. "Yeah, there are definitely all sorts of aliens out there, but the Saiyans are the only ones who have had human contact so far. I'm sure future encounters with extraterrestrials will be publicly announced," she answered. The man smiled and nodded.

"But have the Saiyans had any contact with other beings? If they've perfected their space travel to the point they can travel to Earth, shouldn't they have been able to find other planets with life?" he asked.

"We don't know much about where the Saiyans have been, but much of the life they met before Earth is extremely far from Earth. We won't have a chance of encountering them until technology improves significantly," she said. It was best to withhold the full truth from the public, at least for now.

Another young woman called for attention. She waved her hand in the air frantically and Bulma eyed it.

"Yeah?" Bulma asked.

"Is Capsule Corporation currently working on space travel?" the reporter questioned. Bulma shook her head.

"We have discussed it, but at this point in time, we can not properly answer your question," Bulma explained. To Bulma's surprise, the woman glared at her.

"Why can't you? Are you keeping something from us?" she demanded.

"No, miss. We are not hiding anything. We will reveal our project plans whenever we feel that they are achievable and represent a suitable return on investment, if we even deem them possible at all," the president of Capsule Corp. stated. The woman still seemed distrustful.

"Why should we believe you? You kept the first communication with intelligent life from us. How can we trust you won't keep space travel from us? Capsule Corporation is full of liars and conspirators! Can we trust them at all? Why do we still allow them to lie to our faces? We need the truth!" the reporter began to shout.

One of Bulma's guards placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to gently lead her away, but she was persistent.

"We need the truth! We know you and everyone at Capsule Corp. are liars," she continued to scream, even after the guard began to drag her away from the crowd.

She took a swing at him, but the clumsy attempt missed. She began to struggle, kicking her legs and swinging her arms at anyone unlucky enough to be in her way.

"You can't keep quiet forever. The people will find out one day."

Two police officers approach her with their silver handcuffs already in hand. They tried to speak with the woman, but to no avail. She continued her rant with no regard for the officers trying to lead her away.

"Get off me!" she shouted, turning to one and pulling back her fist. The second officer restrained her arm and held both of her arms together. The first officer opened the handcuffs and clamped them shut around her wrists.

They began to lead her to their police car as she screamed indecipherable ramblings all the way. The bodyguard returned to his previous position, the threat now removed. The second bodyguard walked toward Bulma and whispered into her ear.

Bulma let out a tired sigh. She had hoped to finish this without any troublesome reporters. She nodded and addressed the crowd.

"I assume that's a sign that we should finish up for today. I hope you all have a good afternoon," she concluded. The crowd became unruly once more. They began to close in around Bulma, not yet satisfied.

Her two bodyguards ushered her inside as the cameras flashed around her. Questions were impossible to hear over the noise of the crowd. Bulma had to hurry past many reporters to reach the front door.

A few questions, however, stood out among the rest.

"Mrs. Briefs, will the Saiyans ever address the public?"

"Is the Saiyan here?"

"What does your husband, the Saiyan, think of all of this?"

Questions regarding Vegeta took up the majority of the reporters' requests. It was obvious that they would be curious as to the perspective of a Saiyan. Bulma stopped at the doorway to Capsule Corp. and turned around, facing the crowd.

"My husband, or any Saiyan for that matter, will not be addressing anyone. He is not here, and probably will not be here for a while. You won't get an interview out of him!" she shouted. The security rushed her through the doorway as soon as she was finished with her response, allowing the restless reporters to return to their previous state of disarray.

She sighed with relief as she heard the door slide closed behind her. She was safe, no longer bombarded by paparazzi or reporters. It felt shockingly silent in the building, her bodyguards' footsteps the only noise echoing through the lobby.

"You two are dismissed," she said nonchalantly. The guards gave stiff nods and took up positions on either side of the doorway.

Bulma stepped into the nearby elevator and tapped a button labeled "2". The doors closed and the elevator began to rise, only to stop a few seconds later. The doors slid open once more and Bulma stepped out, walking straight to her personal room.

"Mom!" a voice called out down the hallway. Bulma turned and smiled as she recognized her purple-haired son running toward her.

"Hey, Trunks," Bulma greeted. Trunks slid to a halt in front of her.

"How'd the thing with the reporters go? They didn't give you any trouble, did they?" he asked.

"Of course not. It all went fine," she responded.

"Great! So, when's all this going to be over? I'm getting bored being cooped up in the house all day," he said. Bulma sighed.

"I'm sure it'll be over soon, Trunks. You can find something to keep you occupied, can't you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't understand why I can't go visit Goten because of all this. Couldn't he at least come here?" he asked.

"He's dealing with the same thing right now. I promise you two will be able to meet up soon. Until then, you'll just have to stay here," she said.

"Fine," Trunks sighed. Bulma smiled and bent down to plant a motherly kiss on his forehead. He promptly wiped it with his sleeve.

"Alright, go find something to do," she ordered. Trunks nodded and ran down the hall. Bulma sadly smiled as she saw him go.

She hoped this all would blow over soon. She knew that she wasn't the only one affected and she definitely wasn't feeling the worst of it.

…

"You're going to have to get over it eventually, y'know," said Hercule as he cut into his steak. "We're in this together now."

" _We_ wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't taken credit for something _you_ didn't actually do," said Videl, watching her father fix himself another generous serving of wine with disdain. Their butler had quit yesterday and Videl would have been sure the cook would be to follow suit if it wasn't for the fact that she was a plump foreign lady of fifty-something years who barely spoke the language - not exactly the kind to care about the talk of the town or, as it happened, the freshly-minted local pariahs.

"We've had this conversation before, sweet pea." Hercule sighed. "I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to actually beat that alien freakazoid, but if you'd just been there you would understand. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, truly, and then the kid and all his weird pals just up and left and I-"

"Felt the need to fill in the blanks with 'Mr. Satan' for the rest of the world?" Videl interrupted. "I started thinking you were lame when I was sixteen, dad, but I never imagined you were a cheat… a fraud."

"I just wanted the best for us," Hercule admitted. "Yes, it was selfish - and wrong - but your mother had just passed and I wanted you to be proud of me... for you to grow up comfortably."

Videl refused to meet his gaze. "Whatever. I guess I'm more irritated with myself for being so stupid anyway."

Hercule paused to chew and swallow his food. "What do you mean?"

"I was just so excited when I found out that Gohan actually was Saiyaman. I don't know what overcame me; I just had to to find out more. And what he told me was so mind blowing that I felt the world had a right to know. I didn't want _this,_ though," said Videl as she waved her hands around for good effect. "Now the Satan name is a joke and Gohan won't even bat an eyelid at me."

"This Gohan kid that you're so hung up on. Is he some boy in your class?" asked Hercule after a moment or two.

"Yes, dad. He's the one the media's been going nuts about this whole past week. Y'know, the Great Saiyaman, the blond kid who actually defeated Cell?" she said with an arched eyebrow.

"Oh, okay. Just making sure is all, sweetie."

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, what was with her dad and guys?

"You shouldn't blame yourself, though," he advised, seemingly back to reality. "You didn't do anything wrong. You weren't the one lying about anything and you put the truth out there for everyone even though it didn't cast you in the greatest light."

"I guess," Videl said unconvincingly. "Anyway, I have some homework I better get started on. It's already late."

She scuttled off to her room moments later but that wasn't what concerned Hercule.

She hadn't even touched the food on her plate.

…

 **This chapter was brought to you by Kakarot Son and WTBB501.**

 **Team Dragon Star is a collaborative effort headed by different authors to bring you stories like this one. If you are interested in joining the group, visit our forums and apply there. It presents a great opportunity to develop your own writing skills and join a community.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chichi's eye twitched as she took a few minutes to finish chopping up vegetables before she dropped her handiwork into the stew she was preparing. Even now, in the middle of the school day, she could hear them outside waiting for the return of her eldest.

When the news had broken out a few days ago, the regional authorities had cordoned off a zone about ten metres in radius from their house. It was in times like these that she was glad to be the daughter of the Ox King because she wasn't sure that any regular household which found itself at the centre of the public's ire would get such preferential treatment.

The initial crowd had easily been one hundred strong as journalists from every news station - major or local - flocked to the scene. Now it had dwindled to a dedicated few dozen reporters who had taken to staking out their family home. There was generally only one officer left on duty to manage the scene and Chichi had noticed that the time between shifts during which the crowd went unmanned had been gradually creeping up.

It made sense, she supposed. The reporters were respectful enough at most times of the day but they were a real nuisance to deal with whenever she or her boys tried to go outside. They still erupted into a bewildered sea of cameras and microphones every time Gohan took off for school, silver aura flaring around him as he shot through the air and all.

It was frustrating to be pinned within the confines of her own house for Chichi, even though she was probably the one member of the household that didn't go gallivanting off into the forest on a daily basis. She wanted to step out of her house and inhale the fresh mountain air without fear of being held answerable to questions which would only serve to alienate her boys further.

Goten had it the worst of all of them, however. An incident a few days ago in which the journalists proved they weren't above hounding a six-year-old boy for answers had forced Chichi into action and the child had been expressly forbidden from going out to the woods or Capsule Corp. unaccompanied as a result. He hadn't even said a whole lot but Chichi could only imagine that his words about 'Uncle 'Geta' and his older brother had served to corroborate whatever story the press were running with thanks to Videl.

A vein in the corner of her forehead throbbed at the mere thought of the girl. Chichi stirred vigorously at the stew until she was able to let out a loud sigh a few moments later. That hussy! The Ox Princess could hardly believe the nerve of that girl.

She had invited Videl into her home and fed her but evidently, that hadn't stopped the girl from offering up her sweet little Gohan on a plate to the savages outside. Chichi had been willing to overlook the transgressions of her father at first - mostly because the buffoon's lies had actually helped her boys in a roundabout way, disrespect to her late husband aside, and she wasn't her dad - but now it was clear that the apple had not fallen far from the tree. Why, she had half a mind to bulldoze through the crowd outside and commandeer a jet-copter to give those Satans a good piece of her mind.

Although her days as a martial artist were long gone, she was willing to bet that she could have that fraud crying on his knees for mercy within the space of two minutes. Raising two Saiyans had kept her on her toes.

There were three simple things in Chichi's mind that were keeping her feet planted within their dome-shaped residence. First, she didn't want to deal with the pests outside. Second, Gohan would beg and plead with all his might for her to stay out of it - even though she could tell that stupid girl had torn his heart in two and that he was _aching_ because of it. Third, both father and daughter were already receiving their just desserts.

People, humiliated that they had lauded the Satans as heroes for years, were starting to rise up in action against the pair. Chichi had been particularly bemused to note that one news channel was reporting several calls for Satan City to have its former name restored and for the platinum statue of Hercule Satan defeating Cell located in the centre of the city to be struck down.

In some ways, Chichi felt a little sorry for Videl - at least until she remembered that she was the cause of all _this_. The girl hadn't been involved in her father's ploy to steal unearned glory seven years ago and it seemed that it was her shock at the man's buffoonery that, in some part at least, drove her to tell all to the press. Chichi couldn't tell whether it was stupidity or stubbornness that had caused the girl to implicate her old man as part of the revelation but she didn't particularly care.

"Muuuuum!" exclaimed Goten. "Can I go play outside yet? It's so boring in here!"

"Don't you want to help me cook, sweetie?" Chichi asked. "I'm making a lovely stew for dinner tonight."

Goten shook his head in a resounding 'no'. "I already did that yesterday. And you kept getting mad at me for eating dinner before it was ready, 'member?"

Chichi exhaled loudly and adjusted the setting of the stove before making her way towards her son and kneeling down with her arms placed firmly on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Goten, but you know you're not allowed to leave the house with all those bad people outside right now."

At her words, he began to pout in an exaggerated fashion. She couldn't help but reflect for the thousandth time that he really was the spitting image of her Goku.

She wilted a little. "Why don't I tell you a story while we're stuck here?"

"You mean it?" he asked, his voice giddy with excitement. It being her second time as a mother, she normally only used stories as a last resort at bedtime to get him to sleep.

"Yeah, I think you'll like this one," she said, picking him up and plopping him down on the counter. "It all started about twenty years ago when your dad and I needed to extinguish the flames on this big mountain…"

…

Vegeta stood atop a stone pillar, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were sealed shut as he felt the wind push back his tall, black hair. All sound was drowned out by the howling winds of the wasteland. Solitude had never felt so good.

He had been getting fed up of the reporters and their constant nagging every time he so much as stepped outside his home. The prince knew he had chosen a good time to leave since he was certain things had only gotten worse. He could sense their feeble ki, gathered in clusters around the familiar energy of his wife. At times, he wished that he could return to assist her but he knew the woman would not take kindly to him blasting the pests to smithereens.

For now, he would have to settle with what he had and let it all play out. It would blow over soon, as human matters often did. It was a shame he could not use the gravity chamber, but sacrifices had to be made.

A few days in the wilderness had not made him as rusty as the approaching newcomer might have believed. Vegeta may have thought the intruder to be a troublesome reporter if not for the speed at which they were travelling and the mere fact that comparing their power level to a journalist was akin to comparing a goldfish to a shark.

"Piccolo," he said, refusing to turn around or, indeed, open his eyes.

"Vegeta... I didn't expect that you would be out here. I could barely believe it when I sensed you," he responded. Vegeta heard his feet hit the ground behind him and his billowing cape cease its flapping.

"Haven't you heard? The Earthlings know everything now," he explained, finally meeting the green warrior's blank stare with a glare of his own. "Saiyans, Dragon Balls, the works."

"Everything? How'd that happen?" Piccolo asked.

"Some idiotic friend of Gohan's apparently couldn't keep her mouth shut. Now I can't train or even spend time with Bulma and the brat until the inhabitants of this planet come to terms with where they really stand."

"I see."

He heard the telltale whoosh of air behind him and immediately lifted his hand to catch Piccolo's fist in midair. He pulled the Namekian toward him and then kicked him to the ground without a second thought.

"Is that all you can do?" he asked, hearing Piccolo hit the ground.

"You really haven't slouched off at all," Piccolo muttered.

Vegeta barked out a laugh. "Did you truly believe that you and I were equals? I've always far surpassed you."

"I seem to remember Android 18 giving you a rough time. Don't forget I was the only one strong enough to go toe to toe with the cyborgs and you needed a whole year in the time chamber just to catch up," he said with a hint of a smirk.

Vegeta grinned. "Are you suggesting a spar?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

"Very well, then. I hope you aren't expecting a victory," Vegeta said. He finally turned, sizing up the Namekian for the first time since he had appeared.

"Don't get too cocky, now," Piccolo warned. He lifted his turban off of his head and tossed it to the ground before removing his weighted cape and discarding it in the same manner.

Vegeta could feel how Piccolo raised his power and scoffed. He didn't dismiss the Namekian's previous request, however. It was a welcome distraction.

Vegeta took first blood, not allowing Piccolo an opportunity to handicap him early on. In a ferocious display of speed, his fist slammed into the Namekian's gut and sent him sprawling. Seizing the opportunity, he followed up by planting a few swift punches on his foe before finishing with a kick that sent Piccolo flying through the air.

Brilliant silver flared around Piccolo as he shot through the air and rushed Vegeta with an ensemble flurry of kicks and fists. A bead of sweat formed on Vegeta's forehead as he moved his arms at impossible speeds to block everything. He slipped up and received a strike to the jaw for his trouble.

He sprung back and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth but Piccolo advanced too quickly for Vegeta to properly nurse his wound. Vegeta grunted and he ignored the throbbing sensation and sprung forward, crashing into Piccolo with a strike to his chest.

The Namekian stumbled backward, his breathing uneven from the blow. As he was still struggling to regain his composure, Vegeta struck him with an elbow to his gut followed by a hook punch to his cheek. Piccolo coughed before glaring at the prince.

"Good to see you aren't going easy on me," he commented.

Vegeta chuckled. "If you wanted to see my full power, you should have said so."

His hair began to glow golden as he ascended into his Super Saiyan form. He grunted in effort while his eyes gradually shifted to blue. A yellowish aura burst out around him, giving off a faint heat that caused sweat to form on Piccolo's forehead.

The Namekian showed no visible surprise, but he did proceed to tighten his stance while clenching a fist. Once the transformation was completed, Vegeta launched himself at Piccolo.

He slipped through the Namekian's guard and slammed a fist into his gut. Piccolo choked as he fell backward, slamming into the ground. With this strike, Vegeta let his power level drop. His hair rested and returned to its natural black and his aura dissipated.

A tinge of satisfaction at his handiwork bubbling to the surface, Vegeta examined Piccolo, finding that he had been knocked completely unconscious due to the previous blow. He left the Namekian to rest and returned to his former position. With his arms crossed, he gazed off into the distance, keeping part of his focus on Piccolo's condition.

When Piccolo finally began to stir, Vegeta glanced over his shoulder. The Namekian rose to his feet, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. He saw Vegeta and chuckled.

"Seems you have surpassed me, after all. Good to see you haven't been slacking on your training," he said.

"If I allowed myself to become as weak as you I wouldn't be able to call myself a Saiyan," Vegeta responded.

Piccolo shook his head at this display of Saiyan pride.

"Now, off with you," Vegeta commanded.

"What, don't want a second round?" Piccolo asked. "Wouldn't have pegged you to be the type to search for inner peace in the mountains."

Vegeta shook his head. "I wasted enough of my time with a weakling like you."

He allowed a smile to form on his lips as he turned away. Saying nothing, he rose into the air and shot off, his white aura leaving a trail in his wake.

Vegeta didn't care to watch him leave. He focused his attention on the horizon, letting his mind drift aimlessly. His wounds began to feel more pronounced, the adrenaline of the fight having worn off. He paid them no heed, however, having dealt with worse.

It had been a while since his last sparring session and he hadn't realised how much he had longed for the thrill of a real fight. At times he wished Kakarot hadn't gone and died to defeat Cell, but he could normally silence his wishes with training in the gravity chamber. Hell, even training his feeble son would do. But here, in solitude, his training was limited.

He decided that he wouldn't mind if Piccolo did indeed decide to return someday. As long as it was for no more than a sparring session.

…

Bulma drummed her fingers on her knees impatiently as she waited with bated breath for the secretary in front of her to allow her passage into the office she guarded with a wireless earpiece and her hair in a bun that would do Chichi proud. The irony was not lost on her.

Bulma Briefs normally wasn't a woman to be kept waiting, but she supposed she could make an exception for the King of Earth. Especially given the events of the last few days.

"His highness will see you now," the secretary finally said. "Uhh… he doesn't like to stick to his schedule, but it really is packed at the moment, so please try not to take too long."

Bulma flashed the woman a smile before proceeding into the office. Schedules be damned. This was something that needed to be sorted out immediately. It had been four days since she had last seen her husband's face and at this rate, things would continue in this vein for months.

"Ah, Mrs. Briefs. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" asked Furry, scratching at greying whiskers with a paw. Bulma quickly realised that he wasn't joking about the 'sore eyes'. "Just the person I've been needing to see."

"Likewise, your highness," she said, bowing awkwardly before fixing her pencil skirt. Was she meant to bow?

"Where do we begin?" asked the king. "We have much to discuss."

"No kidding," snorted Bulma. "How about we start with implementing protection for my friends and family. My home - and my workplace - is a still war-zone."

"What would you have me do?" he asked. "Relinquish freedom of the press? I'd go down as the worst tyrant in generations."

"There's a difference between implementing draconian measures and stopping what is simple harassment at this stage," Bulma said. "Call whoever you need to call and tell them to get their hounds to back off. With all due respect, sir, I'm walking if my son can't even be guaranteed one good night of sleep because of all the weirdos outside recording his every move with infra-red scanners."

"We can arrange for your family to be temporarily relocated to a remote location," Furry offered.

"If they're staking out Mount Paozu, there's no location remote enough. Trust me," said Bulma. "And besides, how am I meant to run my business from a house in the woods? I'm a misplaced breath away from being _politely asked_ to step down from the board because of all the uproar. If it wasn't so hard to line up a one-for-one replacement, I'd be gone already. I'm just counting my lucky stars the suits are scared of turning this stock downturn into a plummet."

Furry took a deep breath and huffed. "I'll do what I can, but you're going to need to work with us in exchange. Begin by telling me your side of the story. I've known about the sacrifices of Son Goku and his role in protecting this planet for years, but I do not know the intricacies or a whole lot about your husband."

"Even I have at least five people who would brief me on such matters," replied Bulma, raising an eyebrow.

"Why trust the word of a teenage girl when I can hear it from the horse's mouth?" Furry asked. "I'm no journalist. Although my role has become increasingly ceremonial, I must maintain order. If I am passive through this, I am afraid the public will finally have the noose that they've been seeking to hang me by for decades."

"Things are that bad, huh?"

"Times were simpler when my ancestor called upon the Eternal Dragon you seem to have become accustomed to. He wished to be the one true king and for his lineage to remain unbroken. I fear that this world has moved past a time for kings and queens, especially ones that are not human," said Furry. "Most of my species cannot walk on two feet let alone lead the world. Nobody dares speak ill to my face but my judgement is frequently questioned behind my back."

"You're concerned about the backlash if you don't take any action, then," said Bulma. "Alright, you see it all started when I hit this weird monkey-tailed kid with my car…"

Bulma recounted everything. Well, mostly everything. She left out the parts about the wish she was originally going to make and her on-again off-again relationship with Yamcha. Also the part about an adolescent version of her son travelling back from a dystopian future to warn them that they would all die. And also how her husband used to be a ruthless murderer who had tried to blow up the planet. Okay, she left out a lot.

"And that's about the gist of it."

"I see," said Furry as he pushed his spectacles up. Bulma noticed that the bridge did not sit on his nose properly due to its unique shape. "It sounds like the public already have a pretty good idea of the truth, then."

"Yes, poor Gohan thought it was all just some harmless fling." Bulma shook her head. "Kid finally found a girl that he liked too."

"Understood," said King Furry as he examined a paw with disinterest. "If it were up to me, I would throw a ceremony in honour of you and your friends. What Goku did for this planet is to be celebrated, not criticised."

"I'm sensing a 'but', your highness," said Bulma.

For the first time that day, a hint of mirth shone through Furry's eyes. " _However_ , the reality of the situation is that I will end up having to pass legislation to appease the citizens of Earth. I will help with the reporter situations at your homes in exchange for Capsule Corp.'s - and in particular, your - cooperation in helping us Earthlings bridge the gap."

"Bridge the gap?" Bulma repeated.

"Yes," said the king. "I am most interested in the advanced technology you have acquired. I know it's private sector work and you'll be appropriately compensated with patents, trademarks and funds - if you so desire - but you have knowledge of information that would reap a great benefit to society if it were publicised, or at least shared with the government. We could work on improving the Earth's defences so that we would not be so helpless in the face of another Cell or King Piccolo incident. I would also like to improve the quality of our space programs."

"That's reasonable enough," said Bulma. "What else?"

"I would like you to take on a research and development role within the military," he said. "I understand that you are a busy woman, so it would be a couple hours of work a week at most and you could work from home, but I am keen to explore the uses of this thing you call 'ki.'"

"You mean weaponise it?" asked Bulma.

Furry bowed his head a little. "Yes-"

"No, that's fine. I don't have a problem with weapons," said Bulma. "My husband is literally a _living_ weapon."

"Then, yes, the intent would be to eventually weaponise it," said Furry. "Bullet holes didn't make a dent in Cell, after all. I would also like to explore its other uses, as well."

"There are quite a few, but it would be difficult for any human to learn," said Bulma. "I am also not too keen on surrendering such information to the government and the government only. See, I know that the Saiyans and the rest of my friends have no interest in misusing their abilities but we both know that is not true of the entire government."

"Point taken," said Furry. "I do not have any quarrels with such information being made accessible to the wider public. Although there are those who would use such knowledge and power for nefarious purposes, I believe there are also those like your friends would use it for good. I do not want to sell ki-based weapons over the counter, however, for obvious reasons."

"I'll have to think about it. A decision like this would have so many repercussions that I do not have the right to make it on my own."

…

Videl admired the blue sky ahead of her as she piloted a yellow plane through the clouds. She hadn't done this for a long time. Or at least since she had revealed everything to the press. She figured returning to her previous pastime would be a good way to clear the mind.

Her police scanner had informed her of a robbery not too far from her current location and - although she found it odd that the chief hadn't called her in for this one - she was making her way toward it as fast as her plane could soar.

She touched down on a nearby rooftop and made her way to the jewellery store that was the scene of the ongoing crime, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she kicked the front door in and leaped inside the store.

Videl caught an unsuspecting criminal by surprise, sweeping his feet out from beneath him before putting him down with a forceful elbow to his nose. Having now lost the element of surprise, she threw herself behind a nearby counter to avoid a storm of bullets that must have at least been three rounds large.

She peaked up to survey the situation. There were a few cops lying motionlessly on the ground as blood pooled onto the mosaic beneath them while others were still trading bullets. The rifles that the robbers were carrying seemed like something the Red Shark Gang would normally use but balaclavas normally weren't a part of their M.O.

This was bad. By the looks of it, the body count would easily exceed a dozen if it hadn't already. Why hadn't the Chief called her in?

She shook her head. She needed to let go of all that and focus on the task at hand - namely, minimising casualties and making sure that every crook within a fifty foot radius of the store would be counting stars when they woke up in the morning.

The teenage crimefighter carefully proceeded through cover until she was within arm's reach of another cop.

"Videl," he said, surprised to see her.

"What's the situation here?" she asked without missing a beat. "I took a guy out near the entrance but somehow I feel he was the least of your worries."

"We're dealing with a team that's at least 10 strong," answered her superior. "We know at least some of the weapons are military-grade and these assholes are also decked out in body armour. No customers but the staff are being held in a room at the back - we thought it was safe to enter but we really underestimated what we were dealing with."

"I'll say," said Videl, cursing to herself. "I'm going to try something. Cover me just in case, okay?"

Without waiting for her fellow police officer to respond, Videl charged towards the thug decked out with the most gear. He raised his rifle towards her and shot thrice, others watching in anticipation with their own guns prepared to join in. A surge of adrenaline burst from Videl's core, through her knee-caps and finally out the soles of her feet and suddenly, Videl was airborne.

She used the added momentum from her manoeuvre to soar through the sky, a few bullets that had joined those of thug harmlessly tearing through the air beneath her, and clock her target clean on the temple. As she came to a halt, he crumpled onto the ground beside her, out cold. "Thank you Gohan…"

Videl turned around to realise that her little stunt had attracted the attention of everybody in the room. All eyes were on her. "Oh shit."

And then, all hell broke loose.

The remaining police officers took the opportunity to take out who they could while the robbers collectively fired at her. She jumped higher this time, almost touching the ceiling, but the thugs had been expecting that. Bullets grazed her limbs as she attempted some mid-air acrobatics to duck and weave around them but one pierced her thigh and she fell to the ground like a sack of bricks.

…

 **This chapter was brought to you by Kakarot Son and WTBB501.**

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	3. Chapter 3

When Videl first came to, the world before her was a bleary mess. She groaned, realising that she was waking up in an unfamiliar location.

"Oh sweetheart," cried Mr. Satan when he noticed her begin to stir. "You have to be more careful. I can't lose you too."

Videl sat up and pain erupted across her right thigh. "What happened?"

"You were shot," said Hercule.

Suddenly, it made sense that she was in a hospital.

"It doesn't really feel like it," said Videl as she thumbed over the offending region which had been tightly bound by a bandage. "I think it hurt more when I broke my arm."

"You got lucky," said Hercule with a frown. "And besides, you didn't fall unconscious in the middle of a dogfight when you broke your arm."

Videl said nothing in response. "So have I had any visitors?"

"Erasa will visit in the evening," said Hercule. "And the chief is outside waiting. He seems real cut-up about something."

"I'm surprised he came," muttered Videl. "Would've been in keeping with the past few days for me to just bleed to death here in my hospital bed in isolation."

"Don't be like that. I know things are rough now," said Hercule, reaching forward to nuzzle her hair, the teenager unable to protest, "but we always bounce back. We're Satans, remember."

"I don't think that means what it used to," said Videl. Even though she knew she would have the company of her best friend later in the day, she couldn't help but feel lonely and useless - broken and battered. "So how long 'till I bounce back?"

"It didn't hit anything serious, so a few weeks, possibly a month or two. It depends on how you recover," said Hercule. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I've been through worse," said Videl, propping a pillow up against her bedhead and resting against it. "Send the chief in. I have a feeling this is going to go one of two ways."

Hercule nodded. "I'll be in the hallway. If you need me for even a second, I'll show him what a world champion can do - phoney or not," he said, as he left the room.

Videl rolled her eyes.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you're awake," said the chief as he entered.

"The look on your face says otherwise," said Videl. Her leg throbbed and she grit her teeth, reluctant to call for a nurse just yet.

"Been one hell of a day," replied the chief. "Four casualties, five injured and not a red cape in sight."

"I could have stopped things from escalating if you had just called me in," said Videl softly. The count was larger than she remembered seeing in the thick of the action.

"Like hell you could've!" snapped the chief, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry, okay. It's just that my officers had enough problems stomaching the recent drama and that stunt you pulled didn't exactly help that."

"What are you saying?" asked Videl, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'm saying that you better hobble over to Gelter's room as soon as you can stand and thank him for saving your ass. Also that I think it's best you take a bit of a break, so that everyone can focus on getting their heads back in the game."

"You're benching me?" she said. The chief had always played things straight but Videl had never before had a problem with that.

"Take the time to let your leg heal properly and we can reassess the situation then," said the chief. "My hands are tied here. I can't do anything."

"Why does it matter so much?" Videl questioned as her eyes began to well. The teardrops sat in their ducts and dried out soon after. "So what if he didn't beat Cell? So what if he's a liar?"

"The world is a complicated place," said the chief. "For the past two years, your work with the force has been a beacon of hope for the citizens of this city. You did a lot of good, most of it on your own merit. Public opinion can just as easily swing the other way."

"So you were happy to leech off the good publicity the Satan name got you but now all of that means nothing?" asked Videl. "I'm not my father. I never lied about saving anyone - I did it all with my own hands and feet, you saw me do it enough times."

"Of course it means something," said the chief. "To me, to a lot of your colleagues and even to many citizens. At the same time, lots of people are now asking questions - on the outside and the inside. The world's changing and this department needs to be on its toes."

…

Normally, Gohan would have worn his Saiyaman suit and performed his introductory dance, but nothing had been normal since Videl had spilled his secrets to the world. He did not need a hidden identity like before, but without the suit, his dramatic entrance lacked its former appeal. Although the Saiyaman persona was dead, Gohan wouldn't let a crime slide by.

He flew in just as eager to help as Saiyaman would have been. He descended into an alleyway above two muggers standing over a young girl, no older than fifteen. The one with black hair held a knife towards the girl while his blond comrade stood close by. Both looked up to watch Gohan lower himself to where he was floating a few meters above the concrete.

"Ain't that the alien guy all over the news?" the knife-wielder asked.

"Yeah, it's gotta be him," the blond agreed.

"Let the woman go, evildoers!" Gohan shouted, slipping into his Saiyaman voice on instinct. Somehow, it just didn't feel the same.

"Do ya think the freak is as bad as they make him out to be?" the black-haired man asked.

"Dunno, but I ain't gonna stick around to find out." The blond took off, fleeing from the scene. Gohan briefly considered going after him, but decided against him when he remembered the girl.

"I ain't gonna run from no smoke and mirrors," the remaining mugger stated, pointing his knife toward Gohan. "Come on down here, why don't ya?"

The girl's cries for help urged Gohan to obey the man and descend, but the rational part of him decided against it.

"Surrender and you won't be hurt," Gohan said, trying for a more casual voice this time around. It still came out like Saiyaman and he began to miss his old alterego.

The mugger snickered. "You really think you can hurt me, kid?" He waved his knife wildly in the air, as if expecting to defeat the hero with no more than a breeze.

Gohan watched the swipes of the knife, trying to time his opening. As soon as the mugger paused for another taunt, he swooped down and grabbed onto the man by his shirt's collar. He lifted them both into the air and heard the knife clatter to the ground.

"Put me down!" were the only distinguishable words amidst his cries of panic.

The hero watched as two police cars pulled up to the alley, the sound of their flashing sirens ringing in his ears. A group of officers exited out of the vehicles and pointed their guns up into the air.

"Calm down, officers, I have everything under control," he called down to them.

"Put down the civilian and raise your hands into the air!" one shouted.

It took Gohan a moment to process that rather than being cautious of the criminal he was holding, they were attempting to arrest him. His mind raced, trying to find the right words that would pacify his aggressors.

"You are under arrest! Please put down the civilian and lower yourself to the ground," they called again.

Seeing no other way out, Gohan complied and slowly returned to the concrete, lightly lying the criminal beside him. The mugger scampered away from him as soon as he could get to his feet.

"Put your hands in the air," an officer commanded, moving toward him with his handcuffs in one hand and gun in the other.

Gohan did so, glancing around to see if he could find the girl he had saved. She seemed to have escaped at some point, however.

"Stop!" called a voice from the gathering crowd. As if she had heard his mental pleas, the young girl stepped into the alley and approached the police.

"Ma'am, please, step back." An officer gently placed a hand on her shoulder and ushered her back.

"No. I won't let you arrest this man. He saved my life," she insisted.

"Excuse me, ma'am, what exactly happened?" another officer asked, gesturing for his comrade to allow her to come further.

"I was got attacked by that man he was holding and another one with blond hair who ran off. He showed up and saved me. He wasn't doing anything wrong," she explained.

The officers glanced around at one another, murmuring about the situation. Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement.

"Very well. But we still have to request that both of you come with us," he said.

Gohan let out a sigh of relief and lowered his arms to his side. The young lady nodded to the police and followed them to one of their cars. Two other officers began to approach him, albeit warily.

"Son, you have to come with us," one stated when Gohan made no move to go with them.

Gohan rubbed the back of his neck as he backed away, chuckling nervously. "I'm afraid I can't do that, officer," he said.

"I'm sorry, but we must insist. You aren't in any trouble, we just need to hear your account."

"I have somewhere I need to be. I'm really sorry," the teen apologized before hastily turning and flying into the air. He heard their indistinguishable shouts behind him along with the voice of the girl.

He hoped that this incident wouldn't come back to bite him in the near future and the girl would stand up for him once more. Although he didn't enjoy defying authority, he needed to get out of there before the media got word and made the situation even worse than it was already.

He wiped a bead of nervous sweat from his forehead as he blasted toward Orange Star High School.

Gohan soon touched down outside of the high school, ignoring the demands for attention that his fellow student shouted at him. While many didn't dare speak a word in his presence, some bolder students, accompanied by ever-present journalists, let their cries loose outside the building.

He doubted that he would ever get used to these extreme reactions, whether silent or boisterous. He was able to accept that this was his new reality, though, no matter how much he despised it. Videl, however, seemed to think differently.

She still stopped him in the hallways, asking for a chance to explain herself. He never gave her a moment of his time but she was ever persistent. It was ironic, in a way, that the only one with a choice in this matter was so distraught over it. He hardly pitied her.

She had been using crutches recently, and though Gohan was disturbed to discover she had been injured, he could not afford the girl any sympathy. Her injury had fueled more than a few whispers that she was a fraud like her father before her, a crime faker instead of a crime fighter but she hurriedly denied all such accusations.

Gohan kept his gaze fixed on the entrance moving purposefully and not showing any sign that he was giving anyone the slightest bit of his attention. He had learned that in most cases, it was best to ignore them.

As he entered the building, the normal cacophony silenced and he was no less the center of attention. Aside from whispers, he didn't receive the same shouts and cries that he had outside. He didn't know which he preferred.

He walked down the hall in silence. He had recently gotten used to the feeling of curious eyes watching his every stride. He twisted the combination in for his locker and swung it open. As he dug around for his necessary books, he felt a presence approach from behind. He paid it no heed, assuming that they were simply coming to get a closer look at the neighborhood freak.

"You're pretty popular, eh?" The voice made Gohan jump. He glanced at the teenage boy rapidly, staring for a moment before finally comprehending that he expected a response.

"Er, y-yeah, I guess you could say that," he answered with a stutter. The boy who had so boldy approached him had short, black hair an a white T-shirt tucked into his jeans. He wore a friendly smile, reassuring Gohan that this student's attempt at a conversation wasn't malicious.

"Well, who are you?" the boy asked casually. Whether he was clueless or just very friendly, Gohan found some joy in being able to converse with someone out of his immediate family for once. This time, he wasted no time responding.

"I'm Gohan. And you are?" he introduced, laying his books within his locker again and extending a hand.

"Chalk. This is my first day," he said, taking Gohan's hand in his own and squeezing for good measure.

"Yeah, I didn't start too long ago either," Gohan said. Chalk chuckled.

"Well, it sure does seem like everyone knows you already. What's up with that, anyway? I've heard some pretty far-fetched rumors circling around."

Gohan laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…" he started, before his voice trailed off. He wondered if he could really tell the whole story. What if Chalk reacted like everyone else? His only link to his peers would be gone as suddenly as he came.

Thankfully, Gohan was saved by the school bell ringing through the halls. Chalk groaned.

"Aw, man. I gotta run. See you later?" he said. Gohan nodded his agreement.

"Yeah. See you." He watched his new... _friend_ run off. The word sounded so foreign to him now. He barely shared words with others these days let alone made friends.

He grabbed his books out of his locker once more and started the walk to his first class, a smile plastered on his face and a mood so great that he barely registered the constant watch of his fellow students.

…

Bulma stepped onto the sandy shoreline, her jetcopter disappearing behind her in a plume of smoke. She paused for a moment to assess the sky above her before nodding to herself in satisfaction. Her heels wobbled as she made her way towards the lone house on the island and knocked twice.

A short-pig answered the door. "Hell- oh, it's just you."

Bulma crossed her arms and her nostrils flared. "Well, it's good to see you too, you useless piggy."

Oolong's face soured momentarily before they both burst out into laughter. "So where are the royal pains?"

"Talk about Trunks like that again and I'll cook you for breakfast," warned Bulma as she stepped inside. "I left him at Capsule Corp. I didn't want to attract any extra attention by bringing him. I'm not even sure what Vegeta's up to now."

"Ever heard of a cell phone?" asked Oolong as he gestured for her to sit on the couch. The TV was blaring and Roshi was ogling some aerobics instructor as he attempted to mimic her instructions on a yoga mat.

"I'm pretty sure Vegeta ended up throwing the last one into outer space, so I don't think that would last very long," said Bulma, taking her seat."Plus, I can't imagine him keeping it charged wherever he is to whisper sweet nothings into my ear at night."

"Point taken," said Oolong. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and offered one to Bulma.

"No thanks. I'm here on serious business," she replied, clicking her heels together.

"Suit yourself," he said, flinging the cap into a nearby rubbish bin and sipping from his beverage followed by a satisfied exhale. He jumped back onto the couch behind him.

"Bulma dear, could you lean forward just a smidge," Roshi said from his spot on the floor. "This isn't a good angle for me."

"Can it, old man!" exclaimed Bulma as her cheeks flushed. She was now the CEO of arguably the largest company in the world and simultaneously found time to raise a Saiyan but to Roshi she was still eye candy. "Don't you guys have the news on that stupid TV?"

Roshi sat up straight and turned away from the blonde twenty-something on the aforementioned television. His eyes remained hidden behind his sunglasses but Bulma could tell they were focussed on her own now. "Were you followed?"

"No, I had my secretary arrange a decoy jetcopter for the press. They think it's business as usual for me," she explained. "I came here because I didn't know where else to go."

Roshi grabbed his remote and changed the channel. "Well, it seems like that was a good call."

On the screen was a livestream of Mount Paozu and the Son household. It had quietened down considerably and the police blockade had been extended to give the residents some more space. Other reporters and their respective camera crews were visible to the side of the picture.

"Imagine the chaos if you were seen in contact with them," said Oolong. "It's been almost a week now and the coverage is still going strong."

"I think I may have a solution to that," said Bulma as she glanced at her watch. "I'm going to need everyone's input. Could you be a doll and grab Krillin and Eighteen from upstairs for me?"

Oolong grumbled reluctantly. "I can fetch Krillin but no promises about _her_." He disappeared up the stairs.

"Can you do me a favour and check on Vegeta for me, old man?" Bulma asked as she glanced over to Roshi. "I didn't want to ask Trunks because I didn't want him to think I'm worried but I am a little concerned. I know he's more likely to _be_ the danger but I can't help myself."

"In exchange for a fee-"

"Before you finish that sentence, you should consider what Eighteen will think about it when she comes down the stairs," Bulma warned him with a devilish smile.

Roshi gulped. "I mean sure - I could never refuse a request from a beautiful woman!" He furrowed his brow in concentration and began to scan the world around him. He wasn't particularly adept at sensing energy over long distances but the likes of Goku and Vegeta had such large signatures that they were impossible to miss. "His ki seems relaxed. I can't sense much around him but I can't tell if that's because he's isolated himself or because I can't pick up on the ki of whatever is around him."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," said Bulma. "Thanks anyway."

Oolong sauntered back down the stairs with Krillin and Eighteen in tow. They sat together on a couch near the one she was occupying.

"Hey Bulma, how've you been?" asked Krillin. "You need to call more."

"I'm sorry. I've been meaning to," she apologised before glancing towards Eighteen. "Thanks for coming down. This is pretty important and I needed to hear some thoughts on what I've got to say. It's a lot to digest so I thought it best to do this in person."

"Sure," said Eighteen, indifferently. "Krillin just put Marron asleep for her nap so we've got all the time in the world."

"I bet the last couple days have been rough," said Krillin. "If there's anything we can do to help…"

"I've been working on it, actually," said Bulma. "I had a long conversation with Furry the other day."

"I think I'd be more impressed if I didn't know a literal god," muttered Oolong. Eighteen glared at him and he recoiled, immediately silencing himself.

"Carry on," said the android.

Bulma shuddered, the blonde's voice sounding more like an order than a suggestion. "He wants me to help the government bridge the gap."

"Bridge the gap?" Krillin repeated. "What does that even mean?"

Bulma shrugged her shoulders. "There's a lot of alien technology that puts what us humans have come up with to shame. I mean I didn't see any Namekians with capsule technology but we're still quite a primitive planet when it comes to space travel and the like. He also wants to learn about ki."

"Oh god," said Oolong. "Please don't tell me that Gohan and Vegeta are going to have to open up a dojo or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Bulma. "I don't think either party would be too keen on something like that. People are still wary of Saiyans and their strength. Some don't buy that my husband isn't here to cause any trouble."

"They're being linked to the attacks from when the Saiyans first landed all those years ago," said Roshi. "While I'd say Vegeta is only reaping what he sowed, Gohan had nothing to do with all that."

"Don't forget that none of us would be sitting here to talk about this if it weren't for Vegeta turning over a new leaf," said Bulma. "He's made his mistakes but it would be wrong to hang him out to dry now."

"I'd attribute that to Trunks from the future more than Vegeta, but Bulma's right," said Krillin. "Anyway, back on topic. What does the king want to do with ki?"

"The impression I got was that he wants to study it and then put it to good use," said Bulma. "Weaponise it even."

"It's like arming an ant with a twig," said Eighteen. "Who cares?"

"Well some of us _ants_ might end up hurt by those twigs," replied Bulma. "And besides, a decision like this would change the world as we know it."

"I mean… the cat's already out of the bag," said Krillin. "I can't imagine folks letting us hoard this information much longer in peace. Maybe the exchange can be a little more amicable? With any luck, you might be able to crack your bedroom window open again."

"I'm surprised you're all on board with this," said Bulma. "I was expecting a long debate."

"I'm not," said Roshi. "The knowledge and techniques I've bestowed upon my students were once bestowed upon me long ago by my own master, who deemed me worthy of his teachings. Just as I knew Goku, Krillin and Yamcha would use what I've taught them for good. Sharing this with the rest of the world means sharing it with those who would use it for nefarious purposes too. I'm not talking about your Friezas or King Piccolos but rather the regular scum out there. The ones who would happily put others above themselves."

"There is only one Saiyaman," said Krillin. "And he only operates in one city, anyway. That's a good point Master Roshi."

"Bullets or ki-blasts, does it really make a difference?" asked Oolong. "At least this way, we can be sure that we'll leave a legacy behind - something that'll benefit the entire human race if we all get vapourised the next time something crazy goes on."

"The pig has a point too," said Bulma with a smirk. She missed the old days. "I'm not entirely sure where I stand, personally. On one hand, I want the amusement park that's opened on top of my home to shut down but on the other I am worried about the consequences of helping the government out. I feel responsible."

"Do you feel responsible everytime a terrorist uses a capsule to smuggle weapons?" asked Krillin. "I understand what you mean but it's up to people to determine how to use the tools at their disposal. That doesn't mean that scientific innovation is wrong."

Although Bulma could not fault the logic, an uneasy pit began to take refuge within the depths of her stomach.

…

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